The Water and The Curb
by lightening816
Summary: While Kermit looks at his reflection, he had thought that he saw Jim Henson and while Ernie sits on the curb, he tries to bring himself peace, just as Jim would have wanted. My tribute to Jim Henson who died twenty years ago on May 16th.


The Water and the Curb

By: Lightening816

I looked into the water and saw my reflection and I saw his face, a face so kind, so gentle, and so very real. At first, I actually believed that he was staring at me, which made me plunge my green scaled hands into the water, thinking I would actually feel his face once again. Of course, all I felt was water, just water. I was disappointed at myself.

It's been twenty years now. I need to stop thinking that his face is right there when it isn't. Ever since he left me, I've been having those instances where he was actually there, staring at me in the friendly the way he showed to not just me, but to everyone he knew. He'd look at me and tell me all about what was going to be happening in the scene we would be taping. I would nod, hoping that since he would quite literally be under me, ready to help me when I needed it. He would call me, Piggy, Fozzie, Gonzo, Dr. Teeth, Rowlf, and everyone else like me that we were puppets. Of course I didn't have that big of a problem with it, but whenever he'd say it, the others would go hysterical they would say things like "AAAUUUGGGGHHH THE BOSS JUST SAID THE 'P' WORD!" "I'M NOT A PUPPET! I'M A DOG!" Do we have to, Mr. Henson?" "Oh, brother," and other things like that. Of course, the two of us have been together for so long, I'd grown used to being called a "'p' word". I think that's mainly because every time we'd do things together, he was there to help me out and would direct me on where to go, so in a way, I am his puppet, speaking from a certain point of view.

My friend, Mr. Jim Henson, was a handful of happy memories. He was always happy around me and there was never a time when I thought he was being angry or absurd. Yes, his methods did seem a big abstract and crazy, but we always made it through. He was like the other side of me. We were alike, and yet very different. He was calm, I was stressed, he had a whispery voice, and mine is somewhat loud and clear. Like me however, he was always very fair, considerate, and always thinking about the other members on his team. He laughed, and I laughed. He'd be in wonder, and I'd be in wonder. We were like fraternal twins: the same yet different.

Even though I never really showed it, Jim Henson had begun to show signs of his aging. Over the years, gray began to show and his voice began to age, but I didn't think much of it. Everyone ages, don't we? And Jim was always a healthy man, so…

…when it happened…I was in shock. It didn't need to happen, so it shouldn't have happened. It was unnecessary and unwanted. It was the morning of May 16, 1990, exactly twenty years before now. I was in my bed sleeping. The sun was beaming through the window of the house the muppets all shared. I remember the Swedish Chef knocking very hard on my door. When his furious knocking woke me up, I slummed out of bed and slid towards the door. When I opened it, there was the Swedish Chef with tears running down a puffy red face. When he saw me, he buried his face into his hands and began to wail. I automatically knew that there was something very wrong.

"Swedish Chef, what's wrong?" I asked concerned.

"Ess der Mysder Henson," he wailed. I gasped.

"Jim? What do you mean? What's wrong?" I asked. The Swedish Chef looked at me, his bushy eyebrows wet from the tears.

"Mysder Henson vent do de hospital lasta night," trembled the chef as he tilted his head up to me.

"The hospital? What for?" I asked as I felt my stomach begin to hurt.

"He's…he's…der boss ess…ess…gone…" was the last thing the chef said before he buried his face back into his hands.

Jim Henson's voice escaped me at that moment.

* * *

I sat on the curb as I watched the people walk by. The sounds of the street I lived on rang through my ears as I tried to enjoy the peacefulness of the day, the keyword here being 'tried'. Hearing the grouches yell at each other, Big Bird sing "la la la!" the voices of kind adults reading to small children, and the jingles of bicycles bells had always been routine. Ever since 1969, it's been routine, ever since Jim Henson brought me here, saying that me and my new just friend, Bert, would be living here and teaching children basic skills and concepts. I thought it was a great idea. When I said this, he should this yellow squeaky toy that was in the shape of a ducky. When I saw the yellow duck, it was love at first sight. The yellow texture of the duck mesmerized me, the squeaky sound was likeable, music to my ears in fact, and the kindly look in the ducky's face made me happy. Jim said that this would be my main prop, which I found very comforting to know. I think this was what made my very first Sesame Street song "Rubber Ducky" very successful. It was the bond I'd made with it.

The Rubber Ducky isn't the only thing I'm grateful to Jim for. He and his friend, Frank Oz, introduced me to my friend Bert. When I first met Bert, I'd thought that the two of us were going to be great friends and nothing more than that! When we first met each other, we automatically formed a bond with each other, the type that best friends had. I mean we had to sooner or later. If not, we wouldn't have lasted on Sesame Street. We couldn't have been uncooperative. We couldn't do that to Jim and Frank. I couldn't have done that to Jim. I loved Jim. He was always very precise on what he wanted and always made it all quite clear on what I needed to do to help achieve the goal of teaching children important facts. Mr. Henson was always so gentle with me and the other 'p' words like me. He never did anything that would've resulted in ruining anything that would've been unable to remedy. He was so brilliant. Even on Sesame Street when everything was basic, I found him truly astounding. He never did anything too reckless, and he never liked being told what to do when it came to him being in charge. Of course, if someone was directing a muppet related episode or movie that he was performing in, (like when Mr. Richard Hunt directed a few episodes of Fraggle Rock) of course he'd listen, and he was right to do so. Of course, Jim Henson was always right. Sure people make mistakes, so when Jim Henson did make a certain mistake, the mistake had resulted from something he believed he was doing right. Is it obvious that I'm saying all of this in his defense?

Probably the only thing I knew he was wrong about was when I'd heard about how Jim Henson had died and I was told that he didn't go to a doctor because he thought he would be a bother if he did. A bother? A bother? A BOTHER? Jim Henson was never a bother. Whoever put that idea on Jim Henson's head is the most evil person on the planet!

Wait a minute now. Calm down, Ernie. It's okay…really? Maybe I'm okay, maybe I'm not. It's hard to say right. Being without Jim for twenty years, one would think I'm okay and I would have to strength to carry on without feeling empty or the feeling of being without. I guess I'm still not strong enough to go on without Jim without feeling a sharp pain in my gut. But I must stay as strong as I can for Jim. He would like that.

I remember the day I first found out about his passing. I had turned on the TV sitting with my cereal and as I was eating, a newswoman's voice suddenly said "Famous puppeteer, Jim Henson, has died this morning at the New York City hospital. He was only 53 years old". When I heard the voice say that, my cereal fell out of my mouth, my eyes had grown wide, and my heart skipped a beat.

"BEEEEEERRRRRRTTTTTTTT!" I yelled at the top my lungs. Bert came into the room with an annoyed look on his face.

"Ernie, if this is another complaint about your rubber ducky, I don't want to hear it," he said. I shook my head in distress.

"No, Bert, it's much worse. It's horrible. Remember that guy, Jim Henson, the one who always came to help us out with that guy you like to hang around with Frank Oz?" I asked, trembling. Bert must've heard the trembling in my voice, because when I asked the question, Bert's annoyed look turned into one of concern. He mozied to me and looked at me straight in the eye.

"What's wrong, Ernie? What's happened?" he asked seriously. I pointed to our TV.

"L-l-look f-for yourself, Bert," I quivered. Bert looked at the TV and saw the same thing I saw.

"Jim Henson?" he asked. I bowed my head and nodded.

"He's gone, Bert. Jim Henson's gone," I said.

Jim Henson's voice escaped me at that moment.

* * *

Steve Whitmire helped me and Ernie get through our loss. He said that Jim had asked him to take his place if something were to happen. Apparently, Jim wasn't too far off. I remember smiling at Steve and I placed my trust in him. While it's still not the same without Jim, it helps.

* * *

After the gay rumor began to spread about me and Bert, Steve Whitmire didn't let this affect him helping me out the way Jim used to. I'm grateful. If there's one thing that'll keep me from going crazy, it's the thought that Jim left me and Kermit in good hands.

* * *

Jim Henson is away from me. That is certain. Am I still heart broken by the loss? I am a little. Will I survive? Yes I will. Am I going to continue living in the past with Jim and yet live in the present and look into the future with Steve? Yes. Am I ever going to get over my loss of never look back? No I never will. But I'm quite content with that. I've adjusted. I've learned to live without him and he'll always be here. I have continued his work and I must keep on keeping on. It's the best thing I can do now.

* * *

I hate to think that Jim Henson's departure was going to redefine my life on Sesame Street. I can't live without feeling a pang of pain and sorrow when I think of his leaving , and as I explained earlier, my mind is going crazy because of it. I've coped with it though, but I've still felt my loss. Thankfully, when I think of him and not his death, I feel at peace. I know he's watching me, so as I try to deal with my crazy insanity, I'll be thinking of him. He's still helping me and Kermit, just in a much different place than here.

* * *

And so the frog smiles.

* * *

And so the Sesame Street native smiles.

END


End file.
